


Struck to the Quick

by brinnanza



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: F/F, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-02
Updated: 2015-10-02
Packaged: 2018-04-24 09:09:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4913584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brinnanza/pseuds/brinnanza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Why, Sameen,” says Root, laughter bubbling up in her voice. “I should kill for you more often if this is the result.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Struck to the Quick

**Author's Note:**

> I continue my apparent habit of stealing titles from Shakespeare (this one is from/inspired by a passage in the Tempest). Takes place probably sometime in early season four before Shaw's cover is blown. Unbeta'd (sorry).

It’s possible, Shaw thinks sardonically, that luring a gang of professional assassins into a narrow alley with no real exit strategy is a bad idea.

Reese had been right behind her right up until he wasn’t anymore, but that was more or less the plan. He’d gotten the number, a Wall Street type who’d apparently never learned that stealing from the mob is a poor way to make money but a great way to get dead, to relative safety, but he’d had to leave her to deal with the bulk of the gang on her own.

Which she could have: she had plenty of ammo, and in the close quarters of the alley, she’d have the opportunity to really crack some heads, probably literally. But she’d been banking on the alley going all the way across the block, and someone had apparently bricked it off about halfway through.

She smirks at the mooks closing in on her and brings her gun up to bear. “I guess we’re gonna get real cozy,” she says, and fires.

She manages to take down the two guys in front before things get too close for shooting, then she tosses the gun away behind her and takes a more hands-on approach. She’s holding her own pretty well, but there’s just too many, and she knows it’s only a matter of time before she’s overwhelmed.

She manages to get a hand up to flick her earpiece on. “I’m gonna need some help here guys,” she says over comms as she introduces a guy’s face to the red brick of the alley wall and another to her knee.

“Kinda busy right now,” replies Reese. He’s breathing kind of heavily and she can hear gunfire. She’d have bet big money that every thug for hire in the tri-state area is already in this alley trying to get a piece of her, but apparently there are enough leftover to make trouble elsewhere too. “Finch?”

“I’ll try to send Detective Fusco to your location,” says Finch’s voice in her ear. “Miss Shaw, can you hold out for another ten minutes or so?”

“Don’t really have a choice, do I?” she says grimly, then flicks the earpiece off. This wasn’t exactly how she wanted to go out, in a dirty Bronx alley in the middle of a sunny Tuesday afternoon, but Shaw has long since made her peace with the concept of mortality.

“Just us then, boys,” she says to the guy trying valiantly to put her in a headlock. She ducks his arm, sidesteps his buddy, and slams her fist into his throat.

“I wouldn’t say that,” says a cheerful voice from the other end of the alley.

Shaw’s unable to prevent her lips from quirking up in one corner. “‘Bout time you showed up, Root,” she yells, shoving her guy to the ground. 

“I’ll be right there, sweetie,” Root calls. Shaw spins to get her elbow in another guy’s stomach, then turns back just in time to see Root draw two pistols from the holsters on her thighs, just under the hem of her slinky red dress, and fire. Two guys go down without making a sound, and then Root strides forward down the alley, taking out the rest of the gang before they register the new player. When she gets to the broad, tattooed man Shaw is currently fighting to a draw, she taps him on the shoulder. He spins to address the new threat, fists up, and Root calmly unloads two in his chest, then drops her now empty weapons onto his body.

“I know Harold’s got a thing about killing,” she says, turning a broad grin on Shaw, “but I think he’ll understand just this once.” She winks.

Root is infuriating and impossible and most of the time, Shaw wants to duct tape her mouth shut and tie her to some train tracks or something, but the post-fight adrenaline high is making her kind of horny, and, well, Shaw’s always been a sucker for a great ass and capable set of hands. _To hell with it_ , she thinks, then takes two steps forward and slams Root against the alley wall.

“Why, Sameen,” says Root, laughter bubbling up in her voice. “I should kill for you more often if this is the result.”

“Don’t ruin it by talking,” Shaw growls, and kisses her. 

Root responds immediately, surging up against Shaw and cupping her face with her hands. Shaw shoves her back to the wall. She tries it again, but then Shaw draws her bottom lip between her teeth and bites, and Root falls back with a little shiver.

Shaw hums her approval, then winds a hand in Root’s hair and pulls until Root tips her chin up. She trails kisses along Root’s jaw line, nips at her earlobe, scrapes her teeth against the thin skin over Root’s pulse, and if Shaw had known how effective this would be in rendering Root silent except for the breathy little moans she’s making in Shaw’s ear, she might have tried it ages ago.

Then Root raises one leg, dress sliding up her thigh, and hooks it around the back of Shaw’s knees to knock her off balance. She slides her hand up the back of Shaw’s shirt, reaching for the clasp of her bra.

Shaw twists so her hip is pressed between Root’s legs, yanks Root’s hand back out of her shirt, and pins her wrists against the wall. Then she rolls her hips and Root’s eyes flutter closed, her bottom lip between her teeth. Shaw transfers her wrists to one hand, holding them over Root’s head, and slides the other under her dress and up her thigh, fingers curving around to squeeze her ass. “Should have known you’d be a brat in bed too,” she says in Root’s ear, her voice low and throaty.

“A bed, now that would be nice,” Root says a little faintly. Shaw leans forward, pressing closer, and then rolls her hips again, and Root gasps. “But this is good too.” 

Shaw curls her hand around the back of Root’s thigh and runs one finger along the edge of Root’s underwear, light and teasing. Root tries to cant her hips forward, seeking more friction, but Shaw holds her still. 

“ _Sameen_ ,” Root whines, pulling her wrists against Shaw’s grip. Shaw holds firm -- she thinks Root could probably break the hold if she really wanted to, but she just wriggles her hips a little, shifts her legs a little farther apart, and lets Shaw tease her until she’s panting.

Shaw’s not really sure what she’s doing, playing with Root semi-publicly while surrounded by dead thugs. People will have heard the shots and this isn’t the best neighborhood, but the police will probably show up eventually. Fusco could probably run interference, is probably on his way here, but she hasn’t checked in in a little while, so they might not even know she’s still alive.

All she knows is the noises Root is making, high-pitched and needy, are making her hot and aching in all the right places. She wants to take Root apart, see her face tipped back and slack with pleasure and Jesus, she’s gonna make herself come before anyone’s even touched her.

She crooks her finger under Root’s panties, draws them down and out of the way, and rubs her palm over the apex of Root’s thighs, deliberately avoiding her clit. Root chokes out a noise like a sob and cries, “Sameen, _please_.”

“I like when you beg,” Shaw murmurs, and repeats the motion.

“Please, oh god, _please_ ,” Root moans like a litany. Her eyes are closed and her chest is heaving. She keeps trying to move her hips against Shaw’s hand, but Shaw is enjoying watching her become increasingly desperate far too much to let her.

“Please what?” she asks, a note of wicked amusement in her voice.

Root tugs futily at Shaw’s grip on her wrists again. “Please touch me.”

Shaw smirks. “I am touching you.”

“Don’t be _coy_ ,” Root snaps and tries to arch forward again. Shaw pushes her back with her whole body, then slides two fingers into her. She just ghosts her thumb over Root’s clit when Root clenches around her with a loud cry. She throws her head back, her mouth open and loose and wet, and fuck, Shaw might have a problem here because it’s probably the hottest thing she’s ever seen. 

She rubs Root through a shivering aftershock, then withdraws her hand. Before she can wipe her fingers off on her pants, Root yanks her hands out of Shaw’s hold and grabs Shaw’s wrist. She spins them around so Shaw is against the wall, Root’s body pressed flush against her.

“Thank you, Sameen,” Root says, her eyes wide and serious, and then she lifts Shaw’s hand to her lips and sucks Shaw’s already wet fingers into her mouth.

It’s apparently a record-breaking day for hottest visual ever. She had been planning to leave Root with a pithy rejoinder and then taking herself somewhere private for a little one-on-one time, but Root’s tongue is swirling over her knuckles, and then Root’s hand is in her pants, rubbing her clit in just the way she needs. Root gets a knee between her legs and Shaw rocks against her. She comes with a shudder, her fingers digging bruises into Root’s hip.

“ _Jesus_ ,” she says forcefully, and drags the back of her arm across her suddenly sweaty   
forehead. She rolls her shoulders and pushes up from the wall, her whole body humming in post-coital pleasure.

Root tugs both of their clothes into place, then says, “Sorry to cut and run, darling, but I’ve got another mission.” She taps her ear, then presses a kiss to Shaw’s forehead and heads off down the alley.

Shaw finds herself staring at Root’s retreating figure, an odd feeling somewhere in the pit of her stomach. “This doesn’t mean anything, you know,” she yells.

Root pauses and turns back to give her a considering look. “Of course not, sweetie.”

“It’s just sex.”

“Sure,” Root says easily, then turns the corner.

Shaw picks her way out of the alley, stepping over and around Root’s corpses. When she gets to the street, Root is gone.

“Yeah, well, you’re still a pain,” she grumbles, and makes her way back to headquarters.


End file.
